“Reverend Dawson, what time did Susan leave the house today, and where did she say she was going?”
“She left after dinner; after Jason went to bed. I think that would have been around one-thirty or two: She said she was going. over to a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?” He stared past me. “A friend she went to high school with. Dianne Lee.”
“Where does Dianne live?”
“Northside, near the seminary.”
“Dianne’s car was found off Strawberry Street, not in Northside.”
“I suppose if somebody . . . She could have ended up anywhere.”
“It would be helpful to know if she ever made it to Dianne’s house, and whose idea the visit was,” I said.
He got up and started opening kitchen drawers. It took him three tries to find the telephone directory. His hands trembled as he turned pages and dialed a number. Clearing his throat several times, he asked to speak to Dianne. “I see. What was that?” He listened for a moment. “No, no.” His voice shook. “Things are not all right.”
I sat quietly as he explained, and I imagined him many years earlier praying and talking on the phone as he dealt with the death of his other daughter, Judy. When he returned to the table, he confirmed what I feared. Susan had not visited her friend that afternoon, nor had there been any plan for her to do so. Her friend was not in town.
“She’s with her husband’s family in North Carolina,” Susan’s father said. “She’s been there several days. Why would Susan lie? She didn’t have to. I’ve always told her no matter what, she didn’t have to lie.”
“It would seem she did not want anyone to know where she was going or who she was going to see. I know that raises unhappy speculations, but we need to face them,” I said gently.
He stared down at his hands.
“Were she and Jason getting along all right?”
“I don’t know.”
He fought to regain his composure.
“Dear Lord, not again.”
Again he whispered curiously.
“Go to your room. Please go.”
Then he looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “She had a twin sister. Judy died when they were in high school. ”
“In a car accident, yes. Susan told me. I’m so sorry.”
“She’s never gotten over it. She blamed God. She blamed me.”
“I did not get that impression,” I said.’
“If she blamed anyone, it seemed to be a girl named Doreen.”
Dawson slipped out a handkerchief and quietly blew his nose. “Who?” he asked.
“The girl in high school who allegedly was a witch” He shook his head.
“She supposedly put a curse on Judy?”
But it was pointless to explain further. I could tell that Dawson did not know what I was talking about. We both turned as Hailey walked into the kitchen. She was cradling a baseball glove, her eyes frightened.
“What have you got there, darling?”
I asked, trying to smile.
She came close to me. I could smell the new leather. The glove was tied with string; a softball in the sweet spot like a large pearl inside an oyster.
“Aunt Susan gave it to me,” she said in a small voice. “You got to break it in. I have to put it under my mattress. Aunt Susan says I have to for a week.”
Her grandfather reached for her arid lifted her onto his lap. He buried his nose in her hair, holding her tight. “I need for you to go to your room for a little while, sugar. Will you do that for me so I can take care of things? Just for a while?”
She nodded, her eyes not leaving me.
“What are Grandma and Charlie doing?”
“Don’t know.”
She slid off his lap and reluctantly left us.
“You said that before,” I said to him.
He looked lost.
“You told her to go to her room,” I said. “I heard you say that earlier, mutter something about going to your room. Who were you talking to?’
He dropped his eyes. “The child is self. Self feels intensely, cries, cannot control emotions. Sometimes it is best to send self to his room as I just did Hailey. To hold together. A trick I learned. When I was a boy I learned I had to; my father did not react well if I cried.”